No Holds Barred
by Street of Alice
Summary: Jon Moxley does one of his last shoot interviews with "No Holds Barred," a late-night satellite radio program, before debuting with FCW as Dean Ambrose. The interview takes an explicit turn when the host asks a seemingly innocuous question, "How did you feel the first time you saw Seth Rollins wrestle?" SLASH, violence, bondage in later chapters, somewhat dub-con... or is it?
1. Chapter 1

_Hello readers, I feel like this story needs a little bit of introduction as it's unlike anything I've seen here to-date. It's done in the style of a shoot-interview; if you've never read anything like this outside of drama class here's the basics: At the beginning of each chapter the characters' names are written out one time apiece, after that they're abbreviated (I = Interviewer, J = Jon Moxley.) There are no other speaking characters so everything else should be self-explanatory. Shout-out to the lovely mx joyride for reading bits of this smut out of order and telling me it was worth finishing the whole smutty thing. Rated M for Explicit Mox violence and slash. Reviews always welcome. _

Interviewer: Good evening, friends! Welcome back to "No Holds Barred" on Sirius XM Late Night, an intimate chat with your favorite stars working in professional wrestling today. My guest tonight in Jon Moxley, formerly from every indie wrestling promotion in the country except Ring of Honor. [laughs]

Jon Moxley: Fuck 'em! [laughs]

I: Folks you may know him as Jon Moxley, but he's recently signed to World Wrestling Entertainment's developmental territory, FCW, and has undergone a name change. What do they call you now, Jon?

J: Dean Ambrose.

I: Dean? So Dean, can I still call you 'Jon'? [laughs]

J: Fuck yes! Of course you can. I don't answer to 'Dean' yet anyway. Drives the trainers fucking nuts! [laughs] They never know if I'm bullshitting them or not!

I: Jon, I want to talk about something I saw in a dirt sheet recently-

J: Oh God! What did you read? [laughs]

I: OK, OK I realize dirt sheets aren't always the best way to get reputable information but this was too intriguing NOT to mention. It said you and and a re-packaged Tyler Black from Ring Of Honor might be teaming up.

J: Ah, what dirt sheet was that? I want the name! [laughs] You know we can't really speculate about shit like that, but I'm not going to come right out and deny it- do you get what I'm saying? Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose may be coming to ring near you. Or we may not- [laughs] you know how this shit goes.

I: I do! Thanks for attempting to answer my question. How did you feel the first time you saw Seth Rollins wrestle? Is that Tyler's new name?

J: Maybe. [laughs] Kidding! Anyway, I know what you're asking. I saw him when he was Tyler Black, although the first time I saw him I didn't actually SEE him, like in person. But he was still fucking burned in my brain and there was no going back.

They say you've got specific windows of time to learn stuff, and if you don't learn it, you never will. Like foreign languages and shit. Anyway, I think I missed my window to learn how to let stuff go. They called me "Street Dog" in the indies and it annoyed the fuck out of me. People assumed I earned that title for being a dirty street kid with a hooker for a mom- but it's not true. They called me Street Dog because anyone who knows me for two fucking seconds can see that I don't let shit go. Like, I'll get something in my head and it'll just fucking stick there. Like my brain's some undefeated pit bull in fucking dog fighting ring. And the cops could be raiding that fucking warehouse and carting my owner off in the paddy wagon and I'd STILL be biting the shit out of that other dog. My brain can get vicious- stuck on shit sometimes. And that's like, what happened the first time I saw Tyler Black wrestle.

We're indie guys, so people don't really video tape us very often unless it's like for a regional pay-per-view or some drunk douche with an iPhone or whatever so I'll admit the first time I SAW Tyler Black he was like, an inch and a half tall on a laptop we stole from the production office of a dive we wrestled in, like a local gym or something, whatever. They didn't have the lights hung for the ring yet because there was like YMCA soccer in there that morning or some shit so they told us to go practice somewhere- but of course we didn't.

I: Of course not.

J: Yeah, indy wrestlers are just this side of juvenile delinquents, so if you tell us to do something chances are we're going to fuck off and go smoke in your bathroom or break shit, you know? Anyway, so we're huddled under these freezing cold bleachers, smoking and watching a bunch of Ring of Honor video clips on this laptop. And this crazy motherfucker jumped off turnbuckles and shit like he just fucking had a death wish. And he was really fucking good. At least as good as me if not a little better with the high-flyer shit and stuff. Of course he was like two-inches tall on that laptop but the way the ropes hit him I gauged he was about as tall as me. And he wore short tights which I fucking love; people don't really think about this, but you have to have a certain level of comfort with your body to wear short tights. And his were low! Like, lower than mine. They make a couple of different cuts of short tights. Most of us wear like, the 'granny panty' full coverage-style ones, you know what I'm talking about? [laughs] But there are guys like CM Punk that wear the, uh, Brazilian- cut shit I guess. Like, it's pretty low on your hips and high on your legs. It's good for MMA-type guys and high flyers. And that's what Tyler wears.

I: Wait, I've seen you in the short tights, like- the small ones-

J: [laughs] OK, yeah, you got me! I've got like maybe two pairs. Truthfully I got them to wear with jeans, like under jeans for hardcore matches and shit so the high waist didn't stick out and make me look like a dumbass. [laughs] Seriously though, what really got me about Tyler Black was his hair. He's got this crazy-ass long, dark hair. I really fucking envied that hair, because as you can see even in my mid-twenties I have the luxurious hair of a middle-aged insurance salesman. Sexy, right? [laughs] 'I'd fuck me. I'd fuck me so hard.' [laughs]

I: Buffalo Bill, nice.

J: Yeah! The actor who played Buffalo Bill in in Silence of the Lambs is from Ohio, like me. That's one of my theories for why people are so freaked out by my voice, you know? Anyway, I was watching this laptop and I just got this vision, of like, wrestling the guy and fucking dominating him. Like, I'd get him down and he'd put both arms over his face to cover up. And anyone who's seen me wrestle knows I've been working on this fluid, chaotic- crazy gimmick for a few years now, like the Joker and shit. So he'd go to cover up and I'd just grab both his fucking arms and BAM- just pin them both right next to his head, and get right in his fucking face, like, "you don't have a fucking chance." And he'd look at me, half faking scared- half really fucking scared, and I'd just crazy-smile at him like a sick motherfucker. And it occurred to me that even though it was minus twenty degrees in that stupid gym my body was on fire and it felt un-fucking believable. Watching Tyler Black wrestle huddled under those bleachers in that dive venue is when I first realized I could fuck another man. Like not just think about it- actually fucking do it. And from then on my brain would not let it go. I was just consumed with the shit I would fucking do to that man if I ever got a chance to touch him. It's like a line from this promo I cut once when I was working for Combat Zone, "I'm just a sick guy." And like, my egotistical mind always wanted it to end one way where he was booked to lose of course and I just destroyed him, but my dick always wanted it to end another way- you know? I mean, I still wanted to destroy him- [laughs]

I: So you were an adult before you realized you were gay? That's pretty rare, isn't it?

J: I wasn't an adult when I realized it, no. I knew when I was a kid. See, here's the thing about my sexuality- I've never really lied about it, per se. Other than lying by omission, of course. I've fucked girls. More than a few, if you want to get really personal. More than your average gay guy, at least. And you're probably asking yourself "why would you fuck a girl if you're not attracted to girls?" And here's why: because only fags don't fuck girls, and when you're a dirty street kid with a prostitute for a mother, you don't need that shit on you, ok? Maybe if you're from San Francisco or Seattle or whatever that doesn't make much sense to you, the hiding in plain sight-thing by NOT fucking dudes even though you're obviously gay. But I guarantee you if you're from the midwest it fucking does. There's no 'Pride' here. I didn't want to get strung up on a fucking fence. Like, I know I'm from Cincinnati, which is a fucking city and the fence-thing happened in Wyoming or whatever, but still. In my head I'm still a skinny fag so that shit kinda gets to me. Anyway, it's not all bad because when I was banging girls I used to go to bars and shit and since I didn't care I'd pick these really ugly ones. No competition for them, and they tend to be freaks in bed. Chaos, I like that in people. Plus, if you tell them you're a wrestler in town on an indy tour they practically jump on your dick. Win-win.

I: So when you cut that "I'm a sick guy" promo and said you go to bars and bang ugly chicks…?

J: I was telling the fucking truth! God, that was the closest I ever came to outing myself in my indie days, you know? I got on camera and basically said, 'I fuck beards!' [laughs] Really fucking brilliant, Jon! [laughs] Truthfully though, that promo made my life hell. I still catch hell for it to this day! Because you have no fucking clue how many chicks are into indy wrestling until you buy a girl a drink in a dive bar in the middle of sheep-fucking nowhere and she smiles at you and says "Thanks for the drink, Mox. Am I ugly enough for you?" And then she storms off. [laughs] I was celibate for like, almost five months for that fucking promo. I didn't think my co-workers were EVER going to let me live that shit down. I mean, why do chicks like indy wrestling anyway? We're not World Wrestling fucking Entertainment. THOSE fuckers are like watching underwear models fight. My favorite part is when they pull each other's hair because it just looks like a total bitch-fight, you know? Shit. Whatever, everybody pulls hair, it's a standard wrestling-move. It just looks funny when a bunch of underwear-model-looking dudes do it is all I'm saying. Anyway, I'm with FCW now, so now MY white ass is the hair-pulling underwear model, maybe we can edit this out of the final interview, you know? Please? [laughs]

I: This interview is live, Jon. [laughs]

J: Oh shit. [laughs] Quick, ask me another question before they delay my debut indefinitely! [laughs]

I: So you mentioned that you were scared that people would find out you were gay, but you also say you've never lied about it. Could you elaborate a little on that?

J: I know it sounds weird. It's hard to explain. It's kinda like this- when I was a kid there was this other family in the apartments we lived in and we were like, "apartment-friends" or whatever- poor people will get that- we played at the apartments but like not at school or at the park or whatever, OK? And the lady had two kids and she was amazing. Even as a kid I thought she was like, the kindest lady I'd ever met. And a couple years after they moved in, this little half-black kid from down the hall started turning up at their apartment all the time. That kid's mom was like, worse than mine if you can fucking believe that. Thought she was a fucking lounge singer or whatever. Anyway it was obvious that she had no interest in raising him, so the lady, she like convinced the kid's mom to sign him over to her. Adopted him. Honestly, I could have fucking died of envy. But one of the only good things that comes out of a shitty childhood is the ability to recognize when someone has a shittier life than you do- and that poor kid did. Are you still following this story? Stay with me here.

So this lady now has three kids, and she's a fucking saint so she NEVER refers to her adoptive son as her adoptive son, he's just her son, you know? And when you live in a tenement the turnover's pretty high, so we all had to introduce ourselves to new tenants pretty often. And this was when my cousin lived with us but my Mom didn't really leave the apartment during the day, so my cousin and I would introduce ourselves to the new people by ourselves or whatever. But this lady and her husband, they'd line the kids up from oldest to youngest to introduce them, only the kid they adopted, the half-black one, actually ended up being their middle child. So they'd introduce themselves to the new family in the building and you could just see the little hamsters in these people's brains running on their fucking wheels trying to figure out how a half-black child got born to two obviously white parents in between two white children and I remember thinking, "It takes balls to honestly not give a fuck that profoundly." Like, she'd just introduce her kids and if you were too stupid or judgmental to figure it out then she didn't care. That's how I am with my sexuality now. I just am- and if you're too stupid to figure it out or too close-minded to deal with it then kiss my ass. I've never had a guy refuse to wrestle me- I've had a pretty good run of things, when you consider it. There's some pretty big homophobes in indy wrestling.

I: Definitely. Ring of Honor most notably. How did you know Tyler Black wasn't one of them?

J: Well, first of all, he and I have one very significant thing in common. It's the reason we both have relatively winning records in wrestling, I think. We both get off on pain. It's really fucking hard to beat someone in a wrestling match who gets fucking high when you hit him. [laughs] I could tell the first time I saw Tyler Black get hit that it got him as hot as it did me. It's hard to explain how much of a turn on that was when I realized it. Straight guys generally don't get that hot when a dude hits them. Me on the other hand, I've always associated insane pleasure with violence. I have no fucking clue what caused it though, coping mechanism from my fucked up youth maybe? Don't ask me. Hit me enough times though, and it's like I'm a fucking god. It actually comes in handy, so I'm not complaining or whatever.

I: Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think you two have ever wrestled for the same promotion at the same time. How did you end up meeting in person?

J: Well we actually ended up in the same town. It's crazy to think that some of these tiny fucking towns have TWO whole venues for indy wrestling AND the population to double-book shows for the same night, but sometimes that's all that's there. Well that and a bar, usually. Which is why I have to admit I wasn't completely shocked when I walked into the bar, completely fucking flying from the match I'd nailed just thirty minutes prior, wearing a fucking title belt on my shoulder because we were scared our car was gonna get jacked so we couldn't leave the titles in there [laughs] and came face to face with the Tyler Black I'd been shamelessly jerking off thinking about for a year or more.

I: Did he look like how you imagined him?

J: Listen, you've seen him. He's fucking stunning in person. I was right, we're almost exactly the same height, so I was suddenly just staring right into his eyes. Here's something people don't know about Colby-uh-Tyler, sorry, [laughs] his eyes are fucking black. Like, they're so fucking dark you can't tell where his pupils are. Really hard to fucking read them- it's crazy. It's like when I was a little kid there was this pond in a run-down public park near our apartments and I used to go there at night in the summer because the apartment was just fucking sweltering- even at two in the morning. Anyway this pond probably had industrial runoff in it or something because you couldn't see the bottom of it and at night it was just fucking BLACK- you know? But I didn't give a shit- I'd just strip off my clothes and dive in and god- it felt amazing! Like, you can only fucking burn for so long before you'll just jump right into something potentially dangerous for the chance that it MIGHT soothe you. I guess I'm lucky I didn't drown in that shithole or anything! [laughs] Seriously though, that's what his fucking eyes are like- I catch people looking away a lot when they talk to him so know I'm not the only one who notices. I was so fucking ready though, you have no idea. I just fucking jumped into those eyes and refused to look away, even though it seriously felt like I WAS drowning! [laughs] I was just like, "I'm so ready for you, you gorgeous bastard. This has played out a thousand times in my head- you're not going to know what fucking hit you!"

I: So what happened when you saw him?

J: We did that awkward moment of vague recognition-thing, and he was like "Hey you're Jon Moxley, the 'Street Dog!'" and funny story, it was the first time someone called me 'Street Dog' and I didn't feel compelled to punch them in the fucking throat. I wanted to say, "Hey, you're Tyler Black! The guy I fantasize about torturing until he comes so hard he blacks out!" But I think I just mumbled, "Hey Tyler." Or something equally as shitty. See, here's the thing; I'm not that crazy, fluid chaotic evil guy I pretend to be in wrestling. I wish I were that guy, there are times I can temporarily be that guy, but I had a shitty childhood and even the most basic social skills elude me most of the time. Like, I can sit here in front of this mic and talk to you and shit, but put me in a room full of people that I'm supposed to befriend and I just can't do it. In fact, in retrospect, I'm not sure why I didn't have my headphones in when I walked in the bar that night- must have accidentally packed them in my luggage or something. I nearly always carried them with me. Worked out in my favor though, if you know what I mean?

I: I might. [laughs] I'm sure you know this, but Tyler Black is a dear friend of "No Holds Barred" and has indicated that you two were intimate prior to working in FCW. Is this bar meeting the incident he was referring to?

J: Are you asking me if I fucked Tyler Black the first time I saw him in person?

I: Well, yes I guess I am. [laughs]

J: The short answer is "no" we didn't fuck per se. It was still pretty mind-blowing though- and there were dicks involved. [laughs] Do you want the long version?

I: Well, shit! You know we can't just leave it at that on "No Holds Barred!" [laughs]

J: You're starting to sound like me! Fuck! [laughs] OK here's the story. It's pretty epic, and maybe it paints a picture of me as a dark motherfucker- I don't know. Remember how I said I'm not that crazy guy normally, but I can be him temporarily? Yeah, physical intimacy is one of those situations. And you know how I said I get stuff stuck in my brain and I just can't fucking let it go? I guess I'll just tell the story and if you have to end the interview and call the cops or whatever then fine! [laughs] The dude lived obviously, so no crimes were committed; and the dirt sheets say we're teaming together so he obviously didn't get a restraining order against me, that's what matters, right? [laughs] OK, you ready?

I: Well almost. We need to take our first break, but we'll be back in five with Jon Moxley's first physical encounter with Tyler Black! Stay with us!


	2. Chapter 2

_Holy shit, thanks for the feedback/favorites/follows or whatever people call that on this site; my email's been blowing up all day! I honestly thought this story would languish in relative obscurity- the fact that anyone reads it let alone likes it is really amazing. Thank you. This is a shorter chapter than the previous one, but shit's about to escalate. As always, feedback is welcome. Enjoy! _

Interviewer: Welcome back to "No Holds Barred" on Sirius XM late night satellite radio. My guest tonight is the insanely talented yet vaguely menacing Jon Moxley. [laughs] He's just finished telling us how he's been fantasizing about sexually torturing fellow indie wrestler Tyler Black, and they've just awkwardly run into each other at a dive bar in a strange town after they've both finished up shows. OK, take it away, Mox!

Jon: It's fucking creepy when you say it like that! Anyway, it's really crowded in this bar with everyone so after a couple minutes of trying to scream over all the noise I ditched my strap with some of my co-workers and asked Tyler if he wanted to step outside and he's like "Yeah man, I'm down for that." I can just hear it in his voice that he wants to say "down to fuck" SO BADLY- [laughs] So like I said I've played our first encounter out in my head a thousand fucking times by this point and where we ended up standing in this little courtyard could not be more perfect. It had a bunch of wrought iron tables that were fucking cemented to the ground, and the ashtrays were all dusty and the whole thing was lit with a couple strings of half-burned out white christmas lights so you could just tell NO ONE ever came out there. Like, you couldn't have designed a better spot for all this. I'll explain later.

At that point, the full awkwardness of the situation had kind of descended on both of us and it occurred to me what a fucking creep I could be. Like, I drug Tyler out there alone and didn't try to keep up the conversation or anything, and when that occurred to him he got real fucking quiet. The tension was suffocating. [laughs] So we both take the longest swigs from our beers in the history of drinking beers and to cover for the fact that I'm essentially luring him into a bad situation I offer him a smoke. But of course, he doesn't smoke, which I think makes it even MORE awkward, as if that were possible. My brain was in fucking overdrive at that point; I've got a champion pit bull brain, I'm telling you! Tyler finished his beer and threw the bottle away and at that point I knew it was put up or shut up time because if he went back inside for another beer he probably wouldn't come back out. I sure the fuck wouldn't have. [laughs]

So, remember how I said we thought we were going to get our car jacked in this shithole town? Well, we only have one road case we travel with. It's got like, two nice lights in it, a broken smoke machine and the stuff we use in our hardcore matches so if anyone ever successfully stole it I'm sure they'd be like, "what the fuck?" But anyway in the dim light I see it sitting out here in the courtyard with us- because obviously the guys thought this place looked sufficiently safe and deserted as well. [laughs] This leg of the tour I was running an insane dog-collar match so I knew the collars and chain were in there. I put my empty beer bottle down on the table behind me and as calmly as I could I said, "Hey, I hear you're a pretty fucking good wrestler- you wanna fight? I'm a hardcore guy, let's do a dog collar match or something out here!"

Usually guys from my own promotion have to be TOLD to do dog collar matches with me, so the fact that he fucking agreed to do it still cracks me up. Although at that point, I think he would have done just about anything to cut that fucking tension. Anyway, this particular set of collars was slightly modified in that it had a small carabiner on it about three and a half feet up the chain from one of the collars. The way we were running the match, we'd be fighting and the guy would take a tumble off the apron and as he jumped back in the ring Sami- Callihan, my tag partner- would interfere by taking the carabiner off his belt-loop and snapping it down on the dog chain, hooking it to the top rope so the guy would totally stop short and be fucking stuck there. Then I'd beat the shit out of him. The guy sold it like it was the scariest bump he'd ever taken- it was pretty fucking epic. Anyway, anyone who knows Sami knows that he loses shit, so he was not allowed to remove the carabiner from the chain until just before we were setting for the match otherwise he would fucking lose it and we'd be fucked. [laughs] So the thing is silver and it looks like the rest of the chain and it was fucking dark out in this courtyard, I don't think Tyler even noticed it was on there.

I can put a dog collar on in about two point five seconds by feel alone, because you really can't see what you're doing- that's why they always have the refs do it for matches, so you're not fumbling around like a dumbass, you know? [laughs] So I've got my collar on and I'm watching Tyler struggle with his a bit and it's so obvious he's never really been in a dog collar match before. Finally I ask him, "You need help with that? You're not exactly CM Punk with that collar." And he was all like, "Yeah maybe, douche." [laughs] So let my fingers, like, ghost over his neck as I took the collar to do the buckle, and he was trying to fucking stare me down, but his eyelids fluttered for a second and his breath hitched and it all went straight to my cock. Holy shit. I was so close to just kissing him and I know he wouldn't have stopped me- like the tension was that fucking heavy. But I didn't, my Street Dog instinct kicked in I guess and I knew I had way better shit planned. I got his collar on him and stepped back a few paces so the chain stretched out a bit.

And the christmas lights caught that carabiner hanging from the chain for a split second. I'm sure I looked like a cat that just ate a pet store's-worth of fucking canaries. But of course Tyler's got his blank-fucking-unreadable eyes so even if he registered the delight on my face he wouldn't have given me the satisfaction of knowing it. Now we're just standing there looking at each other, and finally Tyler kind of giggled and says, "So how do these usually start?" And I said, "Well usually someone rings a bell, dumbass." So he looked me right in the eyes with this wicked grin, and just barely loud enough to be audible he said, "Ring ring, motherfucker."

_Author's note: There's explicit content in this story, I swear. It's rated for a reason. :) You'll see..._


	3. Chapter 3

Jon: I swear to god, it's hard to keep myself together when I think back on this- guess we're lucky this is radio and not TV! [laughs]

Have you ever seen a cat, like, toss a bird up in the air and let it fly around a bit, just to swat it down again and bite it's fucking neck? Yeah, I wanted to fuck with Tyler a little bit. So as we locked up I pulled his t-shirt over his head. He swung at me, but I managed to get it off him. It was still looped around the chain though, of course. I pulled it towards me a bit, then grabbed the lighter from my pocket and lit it on fire. Normally Tyler's eyes aren't readable, but I wish you could have seen them as he watched that shirt burn. God, Ring of Honor doesn't pay that shitty so it's not like he can't buy other shirts, but you would have thought I'd lit his fucking dog on fire! So as he's watching the last of his shirt burn away he just closed the gap between us in two steps with those fucking gazelle legs of his and legit clocked me with a wicked right hook. Like, my vision went white for a second. And he grabbed the collar of my shirt- it was one of those black ones that buttons in front with the dragon on one side and flames and shit- you know what I'm talking about? And as my eyes came back into focus I realized he had my forehead pressed against his and I could feel his ragged breathing. He was right in my face. And in that real quiet voice he said, "you're a fucking bastard," and then he, like…

...Hulk Hogan-ed that dragon shirt right off me. [laughs]

Interviewer: And personal stylists everywhere rejoiced. [laughs]

J: Hey! Don't make fun of my highly sophisticated wardrobe, jackass.

Anyway, I can be pretty graceful when I want to be, not graceful like Tyler mind you, but still. So the next couple things I actually did in one motion. First, with one arm I grabbed the carabiner and yanked Tyler off his feet. He's a high-flyer and graceful as fuck, but get him off balance and he's like a ton of fucking bricks. [laughs] You'd think a pro-wrestler would have put up more of a fight, but god he wanted to fuck- it wasn't even funny. So I pulled him off his feet and drug him to his knees right in front of me, and without even looking behind me I just clipped the carabiner to a piece of iron-work on the edge of the table so he couldn't fucking go anywhere. And these tables are cemented to the ground remember; so he REALLY wasn't going anywhere. [laughs] He's kneeling at my feet, chained to the table behind me, and with my other hand I break my empty beer bottle against the table. Tyler's eyes got so fucking big right then, it was hard not to laugh. In fact, I did laugh a little under my breath as I was pressing that fucking bottle against Tyler's throat. Initially, I had the bottle right under his chin and sort of pushed his face up to look at me.

He stared straight into my fucking soul with those black eyes for, like, a full ten seconds. Then he closed his eyes and said, "please don't hurt me," but he said it all weird, like it's what I expected him to say given the circumstances. The next part I could tell he was really into though, "I'll do anything you want." Like, I was pretty hard at that point; but listening to his sweet voice practically beg me to let him at my dick was all the invitation I needed to escalate this, fast. I let the bottle trail down his neck a bit and his chin followed. Now let's be honest, I've never gotten head in the middle of a dog collar match before, so we were moving into unknown territory for me, but like I said before I've got this chaotic evil character I can play when I'm turned on and I've played this encounter out in my head a thousand fucking times. It wasn't too hard to get my belt undone and my fly open without moving the bottle. Dog collar, belt, doesn't matter- Mox has it covered! Tyler's eyes kind of fluttered open as he heard the zipper on my fly, and that's when he caught sight of my dick. God, those black fucking eyes. OK, I'm not Ron Jeremy, but I know I'm pretty big, so I was floored when Tyler just fucking sucks down my shaft like I'm nothing, right down to the base. Like, his forehead actually rested against my abs for a second.

I had one hand against the side of his head and the other had the broken bottle against his neck and this is the exact moment I knew everything I'd thought about Tyler up until that point, about us both getting off on pain, was absolutely fucking true. Because I told him in my most menacing voice, "Suck it." And I could feel him shutter so I knew he was scared, but instead of sucking he reached up and squeezed my balls. Like, hard. And when I pressed the bottle so hard against his neck that I could see the tiniest drops of blood start to form at the glass points, he bit down on my cock. Like not hard enough to really injure me, but hard enough to hurt. I'm sure my face was priceless. [laughs] Man, hit me enough times in a wrestling ring and I feel like I'm a fucking god. Hurt me during sex though, and I AM fucking god, like Zeus or something. So my body was fucking reeling and that's when he started sucking. He's so fucking good at it I didn't think I could last long, but every time he felt me tense up he just held the base of my cock and paused at the tip until I calmed down a bit, then went back to it. And I didn't force his head- I don't think I could have choked him anyway- but I did pull on his hair and pressed that bottle up against his gorgeous neck until there was obvious blood running down his chest. And he was totally getting off on it, moaning against my cock. Shit. There are no words in the English language to explain how fucking good that feels. It was like the beginning of every fantasy I'd ever had about him.

I know he didn't go down on me for that long, but it felt like a fucking eternity. And as he was blowing me, the tiniest little insane thought worked it's way into my brain- that if I didn't come soon I was going to completely fucking lose my mind. Like, I was going to drown and my head was going to fucking break and I'd never be a functioning human being again. I've never said this to anyone before or since, but I looked Tyler right in his black fucking eyes and said, "Let me come you fucking bastard, or I swear to god- fuck this bottle- I will god-damn strangle you." And you know what? That fucker grabbed the base of my cock and sucked up my shaft, like, insanely slowly. All the way off. Then he just sat there and smiled at me- with the dog collar and the chain and the bottle against his neck and the blood and everything. Fucking smiled. I almost dropped the fucking bottle. So I stood there for a second in total shock, then I was like, "Why are you fucking smiling?" And that bastard looks at me and says all nonchalantly, "Everyone smiles with that invisible gun to their head." And with that he wrapped both hands around my dick and sucked me so fast my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I had to clamp my free hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. Fuck. I don't think I've ever come that hard, like, from anything. Not from a hundred random drunken skanks, or even from the most violent, fucked up scenario my street dog brain had ever imagined with Tyler. I wasn't expecting that, honestly. For it to feel that fucking good, I mean. My knees gave out then and I sort of sank to the ground and my head was tilted back but my eyes were still closed, and I had this vague recollection that what Tyler had said was from the book "Fight Club." That crazy fucker.

Without opening my eyes I hooked my finger through the loop on the front of Tyler's collar and crushed his lips against mine and I could taste myself on him and that was the first time I'd ever kissed another man. He shoved his tongue down my throat just like I'd imagined at the beginning of every fantasy I'd ever had about him. I was just fucking lost like I had jumped into that pond by my apartments when I was a kid. And I was drowning, but it was too late to stop this fire- the heat was going to fucking consume me….

….

I: ….Wow. So you keep mentioning that things were happening as if they were the beginning of every fantasy you'd had about Tyler Black. He sucked you off- was that not the entire fantasy?

J: Oh fuck no. Not by a long shot. Like I said, I'm a sick dude. I realize having a guy blow you while you're chained to him with a dog collar and trying to slit his throat with a broken bottle would be enough for some people, but that's not the full fantasy that played out in my head. Not for Colby. Not even close.

I: You mean Tyler-

J: Shit! Yeah, I meant Tyler, sorry. Hey, should I continue with the story? I realize I'm a bit more graphic than your usual guests. We can end the interview now if you want. I'll even stay and talk to the cops! [laughs]

I: ….You know what? I'm not gay, but this story really fascinates me. Like, I'm almost afraid to ask, but I feel like we're personally invested in you now- what was the rest of your fantasy? Did it play out like you'd imagined? Like you said, Tyler Black doesn't have a restraining order against you and you're both still alive. I may regret this, but I want you to finish the story. [laughs]

J: OK fine, you asked for it. [laughs] For the year or so that my brain had been stuck on Tyler Black, I wondered if I could make someone come from just pain. Like, not from fucking them or sucking them off, like just literally hurting them until they came. Turns out it's harder than I had envisioned- but it was so fucking worth it. Still wanna hear this?

I: Holy hell. Well, I guess we're into the late night hours now, so why not? Luckily we've got one more break. Stay tuned folks, when we return Jon Moxley explains how he almost killed Tyler Black! Guaranteed to help you drift off to sleep! [laughs]


	4. Chapter 4

Interviewer: Welcome back! If you're just tuning in, my guest tonight on "No Holds Barred" is wrestler Jon Moxley, and he's about to finish the most graphically disturbing interview we've ever had on the show- and possibly get us cancelled. [laughs]

Jon: Thanks for having me! [laughs]

Where the fuck was I? OK, yeah, Tyler and I were on our knees and he had his tongue down my fucking throat and I couldn't fucking think. Seriously, if you ever get a chance to kiss the guy- just do it, it doesn't matter if you're a dude or not, you'll understand. I still had one hand in his collar, but honestly I'm a sick guy and I wanted him on his back so I unclipped the carabiner, hooked my free hand in his belt and just flipped him over my head. He landed on the table with the most satisfying 'thud' and I have to admit, I was pretty fucking proud of myself because I managed to execute a pretty rad wrestling move in the middle of all that. Like, we're the same height but I've got maybe fifteen pounds on the guy- it wasn't, like, hard to flip him but my head was swimming and I still managed to execute that flip textbook wrestling-style. I hope Les Thatcher is listening to this fucking story. I was always shit at flips in training. [laughs] Anyway. He let out this really shocked gasp and arched his back- leave it to Tyler fucking Black to sell a move during sex. I guess we're just programmed to do that shit. [laughs] Anyway, that's all the opening I fucking needed. I was on that guy like… I don't even know what. And even though I was drowning, he went to cover up and I pinned the fuck out of his arms- right down by his head, just like I imagined WAY back in that fucking gym. God, that seemed like a million fucking miles away but I love when shit works out like that. I was seriously laughing when I got right down in his face because he was really fucking scared. I'm sure he thought I was going to kill him or something. I probably could have, honestly- my chaotic character mixed with my street dog brain and I literally could have done anything right at that fucking moment. I had him! I mean, I fucking had him! [laughs] Part of me wanted to just tear him apart. I mean, people who get off on pain- that's all they think about in those situations. So I had him and I kinda fucking lost it. I wrapped the chain around my fist and hit him hard in the jaw and sort of growled, "who's the fucking bastard now, huh?" And this time when I kissed him I tasted blood.

Listen, if I'm a messed up dude, then Tyler's a sick fuck, because he kissed me right the fuck back. In fact, he wrapped both shaking hands around my head and held me there against him, bleeding all over us both. He's got a really sweet quality to his kisses, though, especially when he's scared. They're like, better than blow- you know what I'm saying? Seriously though, who does that…?

...Fucked up people, that's who! [laughs]

I told you it's hard to control my brain sometimes. Like, I could have just kissed Tyler for half the night in that post-orgasm haze and part of my brain would've thought that was fucking fantastic. But then my street dog brain broke through all that and said, "there's no sport to this, Jon. Make him hurt, motherfucker. Make him come." And you can only kick that thought around in your head for so long before you hit a point of no return. My chaotic evil character took over. I peeled his hands off me, head-butted him so hard his head hit the fucking table and wrapped both my hands around his throat. He grabbed my forearms in a panic but like I said I've got a few pounds on Tyler so it's not like he could do shit to me. And that's when I really started talking. I was staring his ass down and said, "I could just hold you here until you stopped thrashing and the life left that beautiful fucking body, Tyler. I could fucking do that to you. You know I could. And when they finally found you they'd probably do an autopsy and they'd pump your stomach and see that it's full of my come and they'd fucking know what a slut you were. That you died a fucking cocksucker." And he was like, "Then they'd know it was you, motherfucker," and I was like, "No, they'd know it was SOMEBODY, you fucking slut. You think I've got a record or something? Shit. I'd be halfway across the fucking country, remembering what your black fucking eyes looked like when you stopped breathing, and jacking off to the thought of your last gasps as I strangled the fucking life out of you. Remembering what it felt like to feel you struggle until you finally submitted to me. Forever." Let me tell you, his body was on fucking FIRE. He was so hot he was practically crying at that point. He had his boots against the table and was trying to get traction to throw me off him, so I did the only thing I could think of at that moment…

I've banged a lot of crazy chicks, so I know that if you alternate violence and sex you can really fuck with someone's mind. Tyler's not as physically strong as I am but as he'd already demonstrated he had ways to get to me, and I couldn't let that happen going forward. So I let go of his neck and grabbed his hair with one hand. As he went to gasp for air I cut him off with a kiss and started rubbing his fly. I didn't need to though; I could feel how fucking hard he was when I was on top of him. I just kept him like that for a second, until he relaxed a bit. So he had no clue I was about to do what I did. I let go of everything all at once, his mouth, his hair, the front of his pants- everything. And since Tyler got "Fight Club" stuck in my brain, I whispered, "I wanna destroy everything beautiful I can never have." Then in one motion I rocked back on my heels, flipped him over on his stomach and put my knee in his lower back. I looped the chain around his neck and pulled- he's really fucking flexible so he arched way back. Like, "holy shit you are flexible" -way back. [laughs]

What little breathing he could do was coming in these beautiful fucking gasps so I knew I'd gotten him pretty close. I just dug my knee into his back and sort of ground his hips into the table real slow a couple of times, but I was still keeping pressure on that chain around his neck. Since I had him bent back my face was right next to his and I could feel his hot fucking tears. If I hadn't just come ten minutes before that I'd probably have been hard again, you know? It was fucking incredible. I just whispered, "come for me, you gorgeous bastard." And that's all he fucking needed. He made sort of a whispered "guh" sound and his body went limp against my knee and I knew I'd done it. I loosened up on the chain and got my knee out of his back and he rolled over with his arms out, like he'd been crucified or some shit. It had to have been good for him because it took, like, a full five minutes for his eyes to focus again and to catch his breath, but then I heard him talk.

He was still shaking from the orgasm or whatever so he was doing it but he was gasping between the words, so it came out like, "How [gasp] did [gasp] you [gasp] fucking [gasp] KNOW?" And really he could have been asking me anything, like, 'how did you know I liked dudes?' or 'how did you know I sucked at dog collar matches?' [laughs] But I just fucking knew he was asking me how I figured out he was a slut for pain. So right in his ear I whispered, "I knew it from the moment I first saw you wrestle. I knew it the first time I saw you get hit. I saw what it did to you. I saw you were just like me." He let out this sort of ragged sigh then and I realized he'd been holding his breath while I talked. I know it's weird, but I realized I'd been holding my breath then, too.

And we were laying there, half dressed, covered in blood, chained together with dog collars and it occurred to me that if anyone from the bar DID walk out into that courtyard just then, they would have beaten us to death and strung us from a fence right there. Like, there was no disguising the fact that we were fags for each other. But you know what? I would have fucking taken that beating, and Tyler would have too, and I don't think we would have felt shit. Like you could have literally beaten me to death and I would have died with that "I just got laid" fucking smile on my face.

You know there's that saying, if you like something or whatever, let it go and if it comes back you were supposed to have it but if it flies off you weren't- I know I'm fucking that up but you know the saying I'm talking about, right? Whatever. I really wanted Tyler to fucking stay, but I didn't want to force him, you know? Like it'd be a thousand times better if he figured out he wanted to stay on his own. My Moxley character is one thing, but I'm not fucking possessive like that- I can't be. You get possessive like that, and shit gets taken from you. I cut a promo about that once. To really keep something with you, you have to absorb it into your body and keep it with you- I felt like I had a piece of Tyler, but I wasn't fucking sure.

So I let him lay there, but I carefully unbuckled the dog collar so he could run away if he got scared or embarrassed or whatnot. And I just laid next to him on the table and I REALLY needed a smoke and didn't give two shits about anything at that point so I grabbed the cigarette case out of my back pocket and just lit one. I was so out of it, and honestly I expected Tyler to get up as soon as he could fucking focus his eyes again, so I didn't really register it when I felt his hand run along my arm until he took the cigarette from me. And he took the longest drag- didn't even cough or anything! He handed it back to me, rolled to his side, snaked his arm across my body and then it was just him breathing in my ear. Just breathing. The fucker fell asleep against the guy who tried to kill him. I couldn't fucking take that, I just finished my smoke and stared up at the fucking stars and tried to make some fucking sense out of that, but I couldn't, so I think I nodded off too… I must have- that's important later in the story. It was like, fucked up people-love, you know what I'm saying…?

…..

So the rest of the story isn't nearly that badass. I'd noticed some hanging flower baskets on the front of the bar when we'd come in so I knew there had to be a water hose somewhere. We found it and sort of washed the obvious blood and shit off. I found our car and grabbed my stuff and loaned Tyler a shirt. He looked like a dumbass in my clothes but I felt like it was the least I could fucking do, you know? And we just sort of silently went our separate ways; I'm not sure if my guys even noticed I was wearing a different fucking shirt! They were sooooo trashed. [laughs] Anyway, the really funny part came later when I got back to our motel. I was exhausted but aching from the fight so I hopped in the shower and as I got soap on my body I noticed that my side really fucking hurt. Like, it was stinging like a motherfucker. I pulled the curtain back on the shower so I could see myself in the mirror and I guess while I was really out of it Tyler had carved his fucking phone number into my side. Like, with a piece of beer bottle or some shit because the dude's nails aren't that long. [laughs] I was so fucking high from the whole thing that I didn't even notice he'd done that! Can you fucking believe it? Anyway… you wanna see it? I actually still have the scars there- they're really faint, you can't see them unless you really look; they just blend with the rest of the fucking scars I've got. But if you know what you're looking at, you can see them. God, now everybody's going to be looking at me the next time I wrestle! Maybe FCW will put Tyler and I in matching gear or something to cover it up! [laughs] I guess if we debut and we're wearing shirts or some shit, you'll know why!

…So that's how I met Tyler Black… and it's sort of been like that ever since.

I: …That is one incredibly fucked up story, Jon.

J: Why, thank you! [laughs]

I: But it's got to be one of the best we've EVER had on "No Holds Barred." I'm not blowing smoke up your ass- it really was incredible. Not sure how we're going to top that, but I guess you'll have to tune in next week to find out. This has been Jon Moxley and I for "No Holds Barred." See you next week. Goodnight!

_Author's note: Do not misinterpret the final sentences of this story- I don't plan on making this a series. As fun as this story was to write- it's incredibly fucking difficult to analyze literally every word and decide "would Jon Moxley say that?" Also, I solemnly swear I will refrain from run on sentences FOREVER. I never want to say never, but I'm done with first person for awhile. In fact, I may just hate-write a story where all I do is use shit like "throbbing member" and other words Jon would never say. You'll have to wait and see. ;D_


End file.
